


Coping Mechanisms

by kradarua



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, M/M, Pining Castiel, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:47:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4189191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kradarua/pseuds/kradarua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hurts, and Cas finds a way to deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coping Mechanisms

**Author's Note:**

> Guess what I should be doing. Hint: it's not this. But here we are.

It hurt.

Falling hurt, being human hurt. Feelings hurt.

At first he’d tried to endure. A matter of time, it was just a matter of time before Dean came to him, spoke to him, smiled again, he’d told himself. But time wore on, and Dean didn’t speak except to convey information about the next supply run, or strategize about the best plan of attack. Dean didn’t smile.

And finally, Cas didn’t want to hurt anymore. During one particularly bad sleepless night that found him curled in on himself and clutching his thin blanket to his chest, he thought about death. But he didn’t want to die; he just wanted to stop hurting. Besides, though Dean never said it, Cas was needed to help around the camp and on raids, just like everyone else.

He’d gone that night to Dean’s hut, banged on his door until Dean let him in, demanded that Dean talk to him about this, about everything, about _anything_.

But Dean’s eyes were blank, and the only words that came out were “Lucifer is riding around in my brother’s meat suit, Cas. What do you want me to say?”

He wanted to fling himself into Dean’s space, encase him in his arms and sob against his shoulder, and let Dean do the same. Instead, Cas returned to his own hut, and yelled himself hoarse until he fell asleep.

He found that drugs dulled the pain.

Anything he could get his hands on really, it didn’t matter. As long as whatever he was taking took the edge off the pain of watching Dean spiral into depression and solitude over Sam saying yes to Lucifer, he didn’t give much of a fuck.

Drugs helped with the sadness, but not the loneliness. Cas sought comfort from the women in the camp, indulging himself in their soft breasts and warm bodies. He knew they were lovely women, physically and otherwise. He supposed if he cared to try, he could form a strong connection with one of them, but if he was honest with himself he didn’t want to try. So Cas went from woman to woman, burying the physical evidence of his loneliness inside them until it went away.

He liked the ones with green eyes best.

Once he went to a man, a newcomer who was a few years Dean’s senior and quite eager to let Cas take care of him. But Cas found that it was painful to be with him, because he just couldn’t help but wonder if this was how Dean would touch him, feel around him, sound. He went back to women.

The post-orgasm sleepiness in combination with the symphony of drugs in his system was enough to knock Cas into a dreamless eight-hour sleep, which he welcomed whole heartedly.

He’d give this up—the drugs, the women, everything—if Dean asked him to. Dean never did.

And when the Dean from eons and eons ago (so it seemed, anyway) entered his hut and asked him to strap on his angel wings, he heaved a delirious chuckle. Dean, _his Dean_ , was here with him and though Cas couldn’t see souls anymore he could have sworn that this Dean was shimmering, looking at him with concern as though Cas mattered to him, looking and acting like home, and Cas was sure he was going to die of sorrow on the spot. He popped another pill, giggling and explaining what had happened. The Dean in front of him stepped closer, and asked if he was high.

“Ahh….yeah, generally.” An easy smile accompanied Cas’ words, tongue loosened by chemicals. He didn’t elaborate on why, and past Dean didn’t ask.

In the car, he commented on Cas’ newfound humanity.

“Welcome to the club.“

“Yeah, well, I used to belong to a much better club.”

Maybe if he were still an angel, he could have helped Sam resist Lucifer. Maybe if he were still an angel, he could give Dean a fighting chance against facing Lucifer in Sam’s body. He could heal the wounded, gather supplies more quickly, scout, and just generally do so much more to help Dean than he was able to do now. Maybe if he were still an angel, still useful, Dean wouldn’t have turned from him.

He glanced sideways at the Dean from the past. This Dean still cared for him, still valued him, maybe would have let Cas love him just as much physically as Cas did emotionally, given the chance. But in this world, Cas knew, that would not transpire. He would become the cold, closed Dean that Cas existed with and—damn him—loved anyway. It was just a matter of time.

It hurt worst of all that night, even in his drug-addled state.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry???


End file.
